


roses

by flowernst (asphodelgrimoire)



Category: Spring Awakening - Sheik/Sater
Genre: Bisexual Hanschen Rilow, Deaf Character, Ernst is a BAMF, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Gay Ernst Robel, Hanschen's Friends and Family Slut-Shaming Him is now an Inside Joke, M/M, Prom, Trans Ernst Robel, also german humor, cuteness, it's like the actual musical: part one is great and part two is hell, many deaf characters, the angst is kind of Implied, this fic is germanically accurate, well it's not discussed but JUST SO YOU KNOW
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-17
Updated: 2016-10-17
Packaged: 2018-08-23 02:25:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8310142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asphodelgrimoire/pseuds/flowernst
Summary: Wendla had looked back down during his meaningful reflection, so unfortunately, he had to throw an eraser at her. "I need your help. I have to ask Ernst Robel to the stupid dance."





	

**Author's Note:**

> hard of hearing: ernst, martha, frau rilow, thea, georg  
> profoundly deaf: moritz, wendla  
> also otto has speech issues
> 
> italicized speech is sign language!!
> 
> if you're going through this fic and thinking "what the hell are these weird ass german references"  
> please refer to the end notes. that is where you will find the answer.
> 
> this verse is huge though and there's a lot going on, ya know  
> and it is all set in a moderately accurate present-day germany  
> so

" _Do you remember when I said I didn't care about the ball because nobody useful will be there?_ " 

Wendla stared at him blankly, the end of a pencil in her mouth. She nodded. 

Hanschen sighed heavily, knowing that she would understand the anguish in his voice without hearing it. _"I'm revising my statement._ " 

She made a clicking noise with her tongue, and set down her notebook. " _You say this a week before finals_ _?_ " Wendla signed it with a weary expression. 

"I know," Hanschen said aloud. "Fuck." 

She smiled. " _You've said that so many times this week, I think I'm learning English._ " 

Hanschen sat back against the wall and rolled his eyes. He stroked his chin with a sardonic smile. " _Very funny. Stop bullying me._ " 

" _The Americans love you,_ " she signed back teasingly. 

" _Disgusting,_ " He made a face, then shook his head. Maybe the amount of attractive foreign exchange students at school had endeared him to English, but that wasn't the point. Wendla had looked back down during his meaningful reflection, so _unfortunately,_ he had to throw an eraser at her. " _I need your help. I have to ask Ernst Robel to the stupid dance._ " 

" _Ernst Robel?_ " Although irritated at first, she spelled it out slowly, like she didn't know what to think. " _You want to bring him to Abiball? To do what with him?_ " 

" _No_ _harm or evil._ " 

" _No_ _seduction_ _?_ " 

" _I don't know! I didn't think that far,_ " Hanschen lamented, wiping a fake tear. " _This is a lot of pressure, okay?_ " Then it was Wendla's turn to roll her eyes.  

" _How far_ _did_ _you think?_ " She raised an eyebrow. 

" _Ernst acknowledging my existence,_ " he signed, watching as her face became twisted with confusion. " _I know, terrifying to think that someone isn't madly in love with me,_ " But it was true. The closest Ernst had ever come to talking to him (at least since primary school) was making a scandalized noise when he walked in the locker rooms to find Melchior screeching in vain as Hanschen tried to melt his bag of _gras_ _._ That was a fairly long time ago, and now Ernst still probably didn't even know he used sign language. Probably thought he was a bitter drug dealer. 

" _You acknowledge him first! He's shy. A little lamb._ " 

Hanschen blew his hair out of his face with a huff of indignation. " _How? Ask him if he wants to spend the supposed best night in this hell with a stranger?_ " 

" _You aren't exactly strangers, I know that Moritz and I have talked about you,_ " Wendla shrugged at him when he gave her a withering look. " _Maybe it was about how much of an asshole you are, but I think we made it look endearing, personally._ " 

Hanschen flopped sideways onto the bed, scowling and hugging his knees to his chest. He didn't bother signing anything else and eventually just went to playing on his phone. 

When Wendla left, she gave him a pointed look and poked him in the chest. " _Ask him. Even though asking people to Abiball is weird._ " 

" _Americans do it,_ " Hanschen deflected the question completely. 

" _Move to America if you love them so much,_ " she signed back, with a flourish, then rolled her eyes. " _Ask him, Hansi._ "  

And then she was out the door. Fuck. 

- 

 **Moritz, what did you tell Ernst Robel about me?** The note had said. 

In response, Hanschen received a bulleted list, crumpled in his locker. 

  * **dick**  
  * **no chill**  
  * **cried abo** **ut 'requiem for a dream'**  



"I fucking did no such thing," he muttered to himself as he read. "Why are these monsters oppressing me?" 

A voice startled him out of his self-pity. "Who is oppressing you? What now?" 

He spun around and grabbed the girl's shoulders. "Melitta! Just the cousin I wanted to see, let's walk and talk, hm?" She gave him a look, but played along. "Now, Mel, you are a genius, of course, tell me everything about Ernst Robel." 

To Mel, apparently, that sounded like gossip. And how she could _gossip._ "Well," she started, shoulders squared and proud. "I know he likes poetry, children, and those sad hospital soap operas on Netflix. He doesn’t talk about his family much, and he keeps a pretty tight lid on anything suspicious, but wait! The really important part, and you _can't_ tell him I told you this- but you know Johann Dietrich?" 

Hanschen honestly didn't want to hear anything that Ernst was uncomfortable sharing, but then she mentioned Dietrich. He had graduated two years back, but he was still practically a legend. Or rather, a cautionary tale at the Gymnasium, usually entitled _Why Sports and Drinking Don't Mix._ Hanschen didn't know the story exactly, but the alleged horror of it varied from person to person.  

He bit the inside of his cheek and let her go on. "Yeah." 

"Nothing terrible, but apparently Ernst had a crush on him, and I mean, you know Dietrich. He was a huge bag of dicks. Like not even on a scale ranging from you to Melchior, he's like, off the charts in douchebaggery. I remember, Franziska told me that he made fun of Ernst's voice, and like, he was _in the room,_ Hanschen. He probably heard it. That must have been the end of the crush, I think," In her excitement to tell people things that they probably shouldn't have been hearing, Mel hadn't noticed Hanschen's jaw tense. "Yeah, I mean, Wendla was ready to throw down." 

He could relate. Although his readiness was more for strangulation, nobody had to know that. 

"Thank you. This has been... enlightening," he said. He didn't have to do anything with that information, and he wouldn't. He wasn't supposed to know, so he would act like he didn't. That was the least important thing. Hanschen made a list of important things, and that was mysteriously not one of them. 

It wasn't too mysterious though, considering he didn't even care one bit. 

 _You can't write poetry, and you hate children, and Netflix is great_ _, but it doesn't help with asking him out. Not enlightening enough._  

He went to his next class, which was pure bullshit, and everyone knew it. Partner work for Latin? Really? 

Hanschen grabbed his stuff and power walked to Melchior Gabor's desk, pulling up a chair. 

"What the fu-" 

"Hello, my most favourite person in the world, how about I ask the questions, and you don't do a single thing for this project?" Hanschen flashed a smile and moved the paper to his side of the desk. 

"Hans Werner Augustus Rilow. What depraved information do you want this time?" Melchior, being the demonic calculator that he was, hadn't spent the early morning hours studying, and didn't look one bit tired. Hanschen scowled at his full name. 

"Nothing depraved at all! In fact, quite the opposite of depraved. The utter antonym of depravity. Purity. Innocence. I'm talking about Ernst Robel, if you haven't deduced it already." 

Melchior shrugged as if he couldn't find any flaw with that logic. "What questions are we talking about here?" 

Hanschen got to work on the packet and wrinkled his nose in disdain. "What does he like? Does he care about Abiball? Is he planning on going with anybody?" 

"Jesus, Rilow, no subtlety," Melchior rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair. "He likes Grey's Anatomy, candles, anything old-fashioned and traditional, probably wants a knight in shining armour. Yes, he cares about it, and yes, he and Anna have vague plans to go together just because he doesn't have a date, and her girlfriend is at another Gymnasium. She's not too excited about it, but he really wants to go," he said, and Hanschen nearly kissed him, because that was the best thing he'd heard all day. 

"Your answer is much appreciated, and will not be used for evil, I swear." 

Melchior scoffed at that. "I hope not," And then he saw Hanschen scribbling the answers with a grin. "Oh my god, you're actually going to ask him, and you're excited about it. You, the ice queen, the cynicist, are excited about bringing Ernst Robel to the dance. I never thought I would live to see the day." 

Hanschen just flipped him off. 

- 

"What am I doing, Thea?" 

She shrugged. "Not sure, honestly." 

Hanschen rolled over to scream into his pillow. "How do you ask someone out in a non-suggestive way?" 

"Hello, fellow human, I wish to accompany you to our upcoming school function. Or, I mean, you could also just say that you heard he was excited about the dance and offer to go with him. Like a normal person," Thea said, digging in her purse for a joint. Hanschen, not for the first time, curled his lip in vague disapproval. He was bad at reprimanding his druggie friends, but that never stopped him from trying (weakly, and not at all effectively.) 

"Okay, but that sounds like pity. Especially from me. How do you _enthusiastically_ ask someone out?" 

Thea sat back, contemplating for a moment. "Just be straightforward. That isn't a problem for you. You pretty much impress everybody, whether you deserve it or not. I wouldn't stress about it. Say you want to go to the dance with him, and ask if he wants to go to the dance with you. He'll swoon and accept immediately, and you'll get laid. Bam. Done," she said, as if it was the easiest thing in the world, then lit her cigarette. Hanschen bit his tongue to keep from saying that it wasn't about getting Ernst in bed. Instead, he snatched the joint from her and took a few hits. Thea's brows raised. 

"That bad, huh?" And then she grabbed it back from him. "I feel for you, but as your friend, I recommend getting your own weed." 

He rolled his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Nobody told me graduating was this hard." 

"I'm pretty sure I definitely did," she laughed. "But maybe not in the way you're complaining about. Good luck with that one." 

When he went to sleep that night, he thought of how he and Ernst were so close as children. His mother taught him sign language when he was 10, but before that, he'd carried around paper and pen wherever he went to talk to Ernst, Moritz, and Wendla, the only quiet kids. His mother already had hearing aids, and Hanschen didn't know she was hard of hearing until even later. He didn't know why they were quiet or why he had to write things down too, but he didn't question it. Ernst was always the sweetest friend he had. He loved to hug everyone, and always made purring sounds when Hanschen returned it. The teacher would usually pull them away by the time he started petting Ernst's hair (in retrospect, that was probably a smart move since she didn't want a lawsuit on her hands.) But it was so nice to be around such a peaceful person when his other friends forced him to play with Legos and yelled and got upset. Ernst did no such thing. He admitted, it did worry him at some point, that his friend never cried or got mad, but he usually put it to the back of his mind. 

Now, he wondered how they had become so estranged. Hanschen remembered wanting to marry him one day. 

- 

One day before finals. 

Anxiety, in some paradoxical way, somehow made Hanschen brave. It was against his will, but he couldn't shut up for the life of him. 

He went to the library instead of the lunch hall, only to hide in the corner to eat his sandwich without anyone noticing. He didn't know why he'd come there. 

Then Ernst Robel walked in. 

He stuffed the rest of the sandwich in his mouth and chugged a good three quarters of his water before stomping over. Fuck Ernst Robel and his sweet baby face and his cute laugh and his only wish of utter goodwill towards everyone. Hanschen lost a bit of his thunder when he finally stood behind Ernst's chair, and swallowed hard before lightly tapping him on the shoulder. 

Ernst closed his book- something about David Hilbert- and looked up, barely fazed. His expression was a bit concerned when he realized who was behind him, but other than that, he was the image of tranquility. 

He went to reach for his bag, but Hanschen shook his head. " _It's fine. Can I sit here?"_ Ernst just raised an eyebrow and nodded. " _Thanks. Do you have plans for Abiball?_ " Although he mourned his loss of nonchalance, he was glad to discover that he still wasn’t a wuss. 

Ernst brightened, then promptly sagged back into his chair. " _A little. Not really. You?_ " 

" _Not at all. I was hoping you might want to join me,_ " he signed, pitiful. God couldn't strike fear in his heart, but apparently Ernst could. He looked at Hanschen with an ambiguous look, then his face scrunched up. Thea was certainly wrong. Not everybody found him impressive. 

" _Are you making fun of me?_ " 

Out of all the scenarios he'd played out in the shower, that was not one of them. 

" _What?_ " Hanschen couldn't believe it. Ernst Robel, adorable sachertorte extraordinaire, thought he was being made fun of. " _No,_ " he signed simply, shaking his head for emphasis. It was horrifying, just to consider anybody doing that to Ernst. " _No, no, no, no, Christ, no. I'm an asshole, yes, but I'm a fairly sincere asshole. And Wendla would cut my hands off if I ever... No._ " 

Ernst blinked for a moment, looking between Hanschen's hands and eyes. He made a deliberating noise and seemingly recollected himself after a minute or so. " _You want to go to the dance with me?_ " 

" _Yes._ " 

"Oh," he exhaled. Hanschen wanted to cry, he was so pretty. " _I would love to,_ " is what Ernst finally settled on signing, slowly, like he was just as starstruck as Hanschen. 

He wanted to kiss Ernst, but instead, he just grinned maniacally and stood up to leave. He had to head to Orchestra. " _I'll make arrangements. What is your_ _favourite_ _colour_ _?_ " 

Ernst stared at him. " _Purple?_ " 

" _W_ _ear purple._ " 

- 

The day after, he exhaled in relief once his Philosophy test had been turned in. That one had nearly killed him, but it was over. 

Once everybody was finished and life started to permeate through the room once more, someone tapped on his shoulder. He turned around to see Ilse Neumann, in all of her formidable glory, glaring at him like he was a housefly. It wasn't that he was afraid of her, per se, nobody really was (except for Melchior,) but Ilse glaring never meant anything good. 

"Miss Ilse! What can I do for you?" He smiled cheerfully despite having the _worst_ hand cramp he'd ever suffered, and suspecting that he was about to get his ass handed to him. 

"Cut it, Rilow," she said curtly. "Why did you ask Ernst to Abiball?" 

Hanschen pursed his lips. Answer indirectly, and she'd suspect foul play. Answer straightforwardly, and he'd never forgive himself for the amount of embarrassment he'd heaped on his good family name. 

"The truth is, I wanted to get a chance to ask him out before the year ended. I've been longing from afar for, like, a year, and people who aren't him have frankly become insufferable," _Great job, Hans, break your mother's heart and insult your classmates in one sweep!_  

Ilse seemed to accept this answer, and immediately became more friendly. "Alright," she said, tucking her hijab behind her ear. "So you know sign language, but do you know how his hearing aids work?" 

Hanschen reeled for a moment. Why would he need to know that? "Yeah, I think... Open the thing to turn it off, twist the thing to change volume, push the thing to change settings, right?" 

"Good enough. He just always forgets to turn them off when he's not using them, so if you could remind him," Ilse explained, and he almost cracked a smile. She really was Ernst's closest friend. 

"Of course," he said. "Anything else I should know?" 

 "Yes. Just know, in the event that Ernst feels uncomfortable or embarrassed in any way for any length of time and tells me about it, I'm not paying for your coffin," She stood up with a grave expression as the bell rang. "I like you, Hanschen, and I don't think you're going to do anything horrible, but just so we're clear." 

He nodded, and as she walked away, muttered to himself. "No pressure at all." 

So, after finishing the test in his next class, he got to work on a plan. 

Hanschen wasn't too surprised to find Ernst in the library during lunch, again.  

He tapped on the boy's shoulder gently, again. 

 _"Do you like to travel_ _?_ _"_ He slid into a chair across the way from Ernst, and smiled encouragingly. _S_ _mall talk. Be casual._  

" _Yes_ _,_ " Ernst replied, perhaps not used to being asked that question. " _I visited France last winter. It was nice, but I like the drive more than anything. What about you?_ " 

Hanschen, likewise, was not used to being asked back. " _Me too. You're an art student, right? Visit any museums?"_  

" _The Louvre,_ " Ernst swooned, biting his lip to curb a smile. " _I didn't really think to visit any other big ones, but there was a tiny exhibition in Auvergne,_ " He didn't describe it, but instead made an intriguing little noise, something of a trill. Hanschen nearly screamed. He was adorable, and it wasn't fair. Ernst had been leaning forward as if telling him something secret, and Hanschen couldn't help but peck his cheek. Not even a kiss, really, more like a ghost. Still, Ernst flushed. 

" _Sorry,_ " Hanschen signed quickly, scooting away in his chair. _This is why you_ _can't have nice things, Hans._  

Ernst blinked up at him and put a gentle hand on his knee. He shook his head. " _Don't be,_ " he signed once he'd pulled his hand away. Ernst didn't elaborate on that, but instead continued the conversation. " _Where has been your_ _favourite_ _place so far?_ " 

" _I think Belgium. A lot of weird museums and amusement parks. Eating and sleeping like some hedonistic cat,_ " he admitted. Ernst laughed, the tension dispersed. Hanschen found himself laughing too, although it was stiff enough that he was glad Ernst couldn't hear it. Why was he so nervous? 

" _That sounds nice. Do you like travelling alone?_ " 

Hanschen was disturbed at the way the conversation was unfolding. He was supposed to ask the questions and get information. Not reveal it. And yet. " _Sometimes. My dad has a lot of business trips though, so if I go with him, I get free room service_ _._ " 

Ernst laughed again. Hanschen would tell him anything if it meant hearing that laugh every day. 

Then the bell rang.  

He regretfully told this to Ernst, who just nodded, and then started to sling his backpack over his shoulder. He felt a tap on his shoulder and went to ask what was wrong, but Ernst just placed a small kiss on his jaw and patted his head as one would a cat. The boy nodded to him, and he nodded back, despite understanding approximately none of what was happening. He just stumbled out of the library, realizing as he went that he had one more test to get through for the day. 

Fuck. 

- 

" _Are you going to Abiball_?" 

Hanschen nodded to his mother over the dimly-lit kitchen table. His father, from the refrigerator, raised an eyebrow. 

"Really," he said. "I thought you, and I quote, 'didn't care about shitty capitalist school events.' What happened to that anarchist attitude?" 

"Something," Hanschen scowled. 

"It's a girl, isn't it?" And he signed it too, so she could be in on the joke as well. 

" _Fritzi_ _! Stop bullying your son_ ," his mother griped playfully. 

He laughed, stabbing another carrot onto his fork. "Yeah, dad, stop bullying me." 

Rolling his eyes, Hanschen's father sat back down at the table and looked down at his sprawling case files. As a higher-up business official, he wasn't very pleased when his son took a more classic, philosophical route. However, he curbed his disdain and managed to pretend being interested very well for the most part. He tried, he really did. 

" _But_ ," Hanschen started. " _If you must know... I'm taking this boy..._ " 

His mother clapped in delight, but neither of them seemed too surprised. He wished that he could express how important it was to him without seeming like a sentimentalist. She got her hearing aids out so as to get the whole story. 

"What's his name?" His dad, on the other hand, didn't even look up, although his eyebrows raised just a little bit. He always asked this, usually for judging purposes. 

"Ernst Robel." 

Now, he did look. "Ernst Robel? You're just taking him to the dance? That's it?" 

"It's different this time, I'm not even going to attempt sex. Like, not even going to bring it up at all. He's sweet. But I mean, I might take him out for a kebab or something. Nothing crazy, I promise," Hanschen couldn't believe he had to assure his parents that he wasn't a homewrecker. 

"I only say this because Frau Robel might sue me if you try anything," he said. "Otherwise, I would like to stay as far away from your sex life as humanly possible." 

Hanschen sighed heavily and put up his plate. "Not that I'm super worried or anything, but like, three people have threatened me with physical harm if I did anything to him just today. First Ilse Neumann, then Martha Bessell, who doesn't even go here, then _Moritz Stiefel._ Moritz knows me, and I don't think he's ever threatened a moth before today! At first I thought they all just didn't trust me or something, but now I don't think it's even about me." 

His parents looked at each other. "It isn't," said his mother. "I wouldn't want to assume anything, but the boy is skittish, and Herr Robel doesn't seem to be a part of his life. Frau Robel doesn't have anyone to share her worries with. I'm sure she stresses it to his friends." 

"That would make sense," Hanschen shrugged. Ernst always seemed like a sheltered type, but he'd never been able to find anything out about his home life or parents. Yes, maybe he'd been asking around for a while, but he never specifically asked about Ernst's family, because that was none of his business. Maybe that was why he'd never heard anything about an absent father. He had a vague memory of some man coming to pick Ernst up from school, but it was so long ago, he couldn't remember any specifics if he tried. "I should go to bed, I guess." 

They both nodded. He had a lot to think about. 

- 

 **me: hey** **im** **gonna pick you up at 6:30 tomorrow is that ok?**  

 **chowdernst: yes!**  

- 

Hanschen had never been more anxious in his life. Not even the Biology test in his first year was this stressful. 

He ironed his shirt for the third time, almost burning his hand, before his father came in to squint at him.  

"Put on the damn shirt. It's fine. Trust me. I haven't worn anything but suits for the last twenty years." 

He followed this advice quickly, and muttered ' _MLG pro_ ' under his breath while tying his necktie. He knew that fancy, vaguely homoerotic gentleman's dinner would come in handy one day. He pinned a purple boutonniere on his coat, sprayed his hair with several equally disgusting products, and declared himself officially ostentatious enough for a school dance. 

He walked out to adoring cheers from his parents, his father's more sardonic than usual. 

"That's my boy," He wiped a fake tear. "A monster of my own creation, some sort of fifties punk hybrid. I've never been prouder." 

"Thanks, dad," Hanschen replied, deadpan. 

"Christ, and you wonder where he gets it from," his mother scoffed.  

They walked him to the door and fussed with his hair for a moment before deeming him acceptable. Many requests to take pictures and have fun later, he was finally allowed out of the house. 

Ernst's house wasn't too far from the school, so really, he would just be stopping on the way there. But what if his mother was home? What if he had second thoughts? _Damn you_ _, traitorous brain. He used an exclamation point. He's definitely still excited about it._ _Stop being paranoid._  

Hanschen sighed as he climbed into his car, and immediately put on some shitty pop music to calm his nerves. How could he ever think this was a good idea? Exacerbating his anxiety and humiliating himself publicly in one go. Great. 

He pulled up into the Robels' driveway, distantly wishing that he could just honk and lean against his car like a _halbstarke._ He had enough shit in his hair for it, but he couldn't. He had to go inside. 

Hanschen walked to the door, muttering under his breath, and knocked on the door. It opened almost instantaneously to reveal one of the most beautiful women he'd ever seen in his entire pitiful life. He was pretty certain that she was too young to be Ernst's mother, but they were definitely related. The same smooth black hair and dazzling smile. 

"You must be Hanschen!" She smoothed the front of her dress down and put a hand on his shoulder. "Come in, Ernst will be down in a moment. I'm his sister, Greta. It's so nice to meet you." 

"You as well," he said, cursing himself inwardly for sounding exactly like his father. Hanschen stepped in as he was instructed and looked around the house. He didn't pass any judgment, even silently, but he did note that their home was very clean and very small. "I had no idea Ernst had a sister." 

"Oh, well, I'm not around much," Greta smiled, a bit sad. "I live in Brunswick with my husband, but I came down today for lunch. I'll be headed out soon, as will my mother. Business trip, you know. Of course, she wanted to wait for you to get here so that she could see little Ernst off," They both laughed, Hanschen a little nervously. "Would you like something to drink?" 

Yes, yes he would. "Water, please?" She nodded, and he shoved his hands into his coat pockets as she left. Instead of the moment of rest he thought he'd get, Frau Robel came down the stairs to gasp at the sight of him. 

"Oh, Hanschen! Ernie didn't tell me you were the boy going with him!" 

 _How much does she know? Why didn't Ernst tell her it was_ _me_ _? Why am I so suspicious of this family?_  

"Yep," Hanschen replied, duly noting that all of the pictures hanging in the living room were fairly recent, and that none of them included a father. He tried to find something neutral to say, so as not to reveal any more than what Ernst had already told her. "He's going to have a lot of fun." 

"I'm sure he will," she said, then took him by the arm. "We'll meet him in the kitchen, yes?" 

Hanschen nodded, although he wasn't sure what the point of that was. 

Greta was just walking back with his water when they burst through the doorway. "Oh, mama, no," she started. "You know Ernst hates when you do this," While giving Hanschen his glass, she stayed in front of him as if to act as a shield, looking at her mother over her shoulder. 

"And you know that he doesn't have any _choice_ in this matter," Frau Robel replied, simple. 

"He can take care of himself now." 

"Hanschen is a nice boy, so this won't be hard at all, alright?" Greta sighed, but stepped out of her way. Hanschen suddenly wished that she hadn't, because all the words were vague and sounded like some sort of test he had to pass. He hated tests. "I just want to say, Ernie has been through a lot these past couple of years, and I want you to be careful with him. You two can come back here after the dance and spend the night if you'd like, but I'll be gone tonight and all of next week. My number is under the clock, if you need me," She paused, wringing her hands. "Please don't let this deter you, I'm just very protective of him." 

Hanschen had been staring blankly at her for the most part, but then he nodded. "I understand," He then realized that, perhaps, whatever the incident was, it wasn't something he should ask about. "And I'm not deterred. I agree that he can take care of himself, but I will be careful. Promise," Despite his initial anxiety, he felt comfortable making that commitment. It wasn't difficult. 

Frau Robel and Greta both smiled, then embraced him. (Hanschen, turning red, subsequently understood where Ernst got his affectionate streak from.) 

Greta pinched his cheek as gently as she could with her fake nails. Just then, Ernst turned the corner, struggling with one hearing aid. He didn't seem to notice the other people in the kitchen until his sister came forward to help him. "These new ones are weird," she said loudly, into his right ear. Ernst just nodded, his brows furrowed in confusion. He looked adorable, as he always did, with his violet tie and perfectly parted hair. One thing that Ernst and Greta didn't have in common, was their height. She had to be at least twenty centimeters taller than him, and that was after she'd taken off her heels. 

Hanschen shuffled awkwardly in the background as Greta batted her brother's hands away. Despite her earlier claim that Ernst could take care of himself, she seemed to fuss at him just as much as his mother did. Finally fitting the device in place, she stepped away to exclaim something in a language Hanschen didn't recognize. 

"Anyway, your boy's a keeper," Ernst didn't even blush, just raising an unimpressed eyebrow, and Hanschen nearly _cried_ he was so in love. Why did boys have to look so good when they didn't care? Ernst seemed to notice him a second time and walked forward with a tiny smile. Hanschen stared at him like an idiot until he remembered what he had to do.  

"Wait a sec, here," He dug in his pocket (around the tiny emergency bottle of whiskey) and produced a second purple boutonniere. He stepped closer to grab Ernst's coat lapel and pin it on. That time, the boy did gain a bit of colour in his cheeks. "All ready to go?" 

Ernst dodged his mother's attempt to pick something off his coat, and nodded sharply. He did give her a smile, however, and Frau Robel seemed to accept this. 

Greta shooed them out, taking back Hanschen's still-full glass of water. "Have fun, _mauschen_!" 

He just grumbled and looked up in surprise when he realized Hanschen was laughing.  

"What a pair they are," he snorted. Ernst laughed as well, and they climbed into the car.  

Hanschen, in a moment of boldness, reached for his hand and kissed a few knuckles. He was somehow able to seem unfazed and flustered by this simultaneously, and truly, Hanschen wanted to know his secret. It was clear that the kisses didn't bother him a bit, in any case. Ernst didn't feel comfortable speaking most of the time, but he did tend to be expressive in his noise-making. As Hanschen pressed his lips to Ernst's knuckles, the boy hummed and cooed. "Yes?" Hanschen questioned, a bit smug, as the noises grew in volume. 

" _Kiss me or start the damn car,_ " Ernst signed, sharp but playful. 

Hanschen, although truly shocked and appalled by Ernst's brashness, didn't hesitate to cup his cheek and go in for the first option. He'd been waiting for this moment since they were kids. Ernst sighed happily as their lips met, threading his fingers through Hanschen's hair. 

"Holy shit," Hanschen said ineloquently when they pulled apart. He turned on the ignition, pulling out of the driveway as quickly as he could without potentially killing anyone. Ernst laughed and fell back into his seat, one hand still on Hanschen's knee. 

The bad thing about driving was that neither of them could sign to each other, but it was okay. Hanschen could nearly hear the wheels turning in Ernst's mind anyway, and snuck a glance at his pensive expression every so often. When their school, rife with car lights and neon glow sticks, came into view, his face lit up. It was adorable. 

Once he'd gotten parked, Hanschen turned to Ernst, who was ready to get out, and took his hand. "Sorry," he said, seeing the startled look on his face. "I just wanted to tell you that you might want to change the setting on your hearing aids? The music is probably way too loud." 

Ernst blushed and did just that. " _I completely forgot,_ " he admitted bashfully. 

Hanschen gave him what he hoped to be a reassuring smile. "Shall we?" 

He grinned. 

- 

The night went by in a blur- dancing, talking (luckily the auditorium was just light enough so that he could see what Ernst was signing) laughing.  

Ilse and Wendla were there, talking with Martha Bessell. Thea was dancing by herself in a backless dress, most likely drunk and having the time of her life.  

Anna, at one point, came to them with Martha. Ernst smiled at them. " _I didn't know you would still come!_ "  

"Ernst, Hans, this is my girlfriend, Martha," The girl waved awkwardly, probably remembering how she threatened to have Hanschen killed if he hurt Ernst. 

"Psh, I know Martha," Hanschen said amicably and patted the side of her head. Ernst sipped his beer, raising an eyebrow. "I thought you went to a different school though." 

"I do, but they somehow let me in. This school is much more relaxed, compared to mine." 

"I can imagine. I'm curious, where are you from?" Her accent intrigued him. 

"Pennsylvania," she responded, only to witness two separate double-takes. "Oh, I mean, the United States. I moved to Bielefeld a while ago, and moved here in the middle of last school year." 

Ernst seemed to know what he was thinking, and punched him in the shoulder with a warning look.  

"Bielefeld? What would an American say? I suppose the correct phrase is, stop yanking my chain. We all know Bielefeld doesn't exist!" 

Anna and Ernst both groaned. Martha just seemed confused. 

"W-what?" Hanschen cackled. 

"Are you with the government, Martha?" 

"God, Hans, you're insufferable," Anna rolled her eyes and gave Martha a smile before promptly pulling her away. Hanschen was still laughing. That never seemed to get old. 

" _Poor Americans,_ " Ernst lamented, shaking his head. 

"Poor Americans, indeed," he snickered, and they clinked bottles. 

Melchior was also there, moping around like he was some sort of pretentious philosopher's ghost. He didn't have anyone to go with, but he also didn't want to be left out, apparently. Moritz hadn't been allowed to go, as expected, but it still put a bad taste in Hanschen's mouth. Ernst seemed equally unsettled by this, but only for a moment, before their thoughts were interrupted by Otto, who wanted to make sure they got their pictures taken. 

They ended up getting two sets of photos- one was sweet and personal and they held hands and kissed, while the other was full of group photos, Ilse and Wendla sitting on their shoulders and probably making terrible gestures. Georg even did a pin-up pose on the floor in front of them for one. The photographer got more and more disturbed as the photos printed out, and he hesitated to thank them for their purchase afterwards. 

Neither of them got drunk, not even tipsy, but Hanschen felt a bit a warm by the time they got into the car, giggling. The party would most likely last all night, but both of them had their fill on social interaction by midnight. 

"Want to go get kebabs?" 

Ernst groaned and nodded with a thumbs up.  

The majority of the time spent stuffing their faces with French fries and falafel was also spent silently. After the truly resurrecting meal, Ernst got more talkative. 

" _My sister is married to a Turkish guy. I wish we knew more about him, but they're always traveling. We only met him at the wedding, and he seems cool enough, but I don't even remember his name. She doesn't really talk about him that much._ " 

Hanschen made a humming sound and slumped against the diner window. "Yeah. That's frustrating," Ernst nodded emphatically. "I wish my dad told me more about his life, but I don't know. I guess we're close enough, I'm fine with it. What about you?" He was curious, but he wouldn't press if Ernst seemed uncomfortable. 

But Ernst just snorted. " _I wish my dad would just rot in hell already_ _._ " 

Hanschen balked. "Do I want to ask why?" He shook his head no. Hanschen didn't take the questioning any further. "What do you want to do in college?" 

" _Art. You?_ _A lawyer, right?_ " 

"Dear lord no. Public Relations or Journalism," He had always been proud of his ability to write kick-ass essays and maintain appearances. It just made sense. Ernst looked genuinely surprised. "What, you think I can't write an inspiring story to rally the masses and rebel against the bourgeoisie?" 

" _No, seems like your specialty. Not sure how you could rebel against yourself though,_ " Ernst snickered. 

"Hush," Hanschen scolded laughingly. They sat for a while longer, but soon decided to go back to the house as Frau Robel had suggested. Hanschen paid without much protest, and off they went. When Ernst went to turn the radio on, it was still on the shitty pop music. 

" _Really? This is your choice of music?_ " Ernst shook his head disparagingly. 

"It was only because I was so worried about impressing you," Hanschen joked, even though it was more honest than he would have liked. 

Ernst's expression softened to something wistful, almost adoring. It was too open. Hanschen had to look away, nearly sweating. Neither of them said anything once he started driving. Why did he have to say things in such a meaningful tone like that? 

Once they were back at the house, Ernst grabbed his shoulder before he could open the car door.  

" _You don't_ _have to worry about impressing me,_ " He hesitated to continue. " _I love you._ " 

Hanschen slowly took in this information, swallowing around the lump in his throat and rolling his shoulders back. He kissed Ernst slowly, without words, and hoped it was acceptable. "I don't know why we stopped talking," he said, but the boy shook his head to quiet him.  

When inside the house, Ernst threw his keys on the coffee table and started to walk up the stairs. 

Briefly, he turned around. " _I'm just going to change,_ " Hanschen nodded his assent, then fell nearly deadweight on the sofa as Ernst departed. He looked toward the ceiling and prayed, not to God, but to the memory of a boy who trusted him too much. He hated thinking about it. He hated thinking about it while he was with Ernst. 

After finishing his moment of silence, he started to undo the buttons of his dress shirt. It was definitely strange to spontaneously undress- but he'd made the genius decision to wear a t-shirt and athletic shorts underneath his suit. 

Ernst came down in pyjamas just as he was folding his coat, and made a small noise of surprise. Hanschen smiled to himself, standing up to face Ernst. He could commit. He loved Ernst too. He could say it. 

His date had other plans. " _Your legs are hairy,_ " he signed, with a purely unimpressed look. 

"Yeah, well, your legs are skinny," Hanschen replied, and blew a raspberry at him. Ernst smiled, so sweet, even after proving that his status as an ingenue was simply false.  

Their lips met again, both shy at first. As Hanschen moved back toward the couch, it became fervent, and Ernst climbed into his lap when he sat down. He patted Hanschen's head, like he did in the library. When they pulled away from each other next, they both sighed happily. Ernst pushed him to lie lengthwise on the couch so as to lie _on_ him. Hanschen settled with his hands on Ernst's waist, kissing the shell of his ear. He giggled. 

Hanschen smiled down at him. "Greta called you _maus,_ eh?" Ernst made a disgusted face that told him everything. "It's shockingly accurate." 

"How?" He said it aloud, laughingly and almost offended. Hanschen had never heard him speak before. 

"Your face is tiny." 

"My face?" 

"Yes, your face. You're cute and small," he explained simply. 

"Taller than you," Ernst protested. 

Hanschen pulled him close. "Still, you look smaller than me," Then a pause as Ernst played with his hair. "I like your voice." 

He shook his head. "I don't." 

"That's okay. You don't have to talk if you don't want to, right?" If Ernst didn't like his voice for whatever reason, or didn't like to speak out loud, Hanschen wouldn't ask him to. 

He could hear the boy sigh, and frowned, hoping to make him laugh again. "I don't know, it's easier to talk with you. I only talk with Mama and Greta, mostly, and now you. I have to talk to Frau Beringer, the speech therapist, too, but I don't like it." 

"Do you want to speak?" Hanschen asked. He hadn't known that Ernst was seeing the speech therapist, although he had heard of her from Otto. How could he? They hadn't talked in so long. 

Ernst blinked up at him. "To you, yes." Hanschen just nodded, not sure how to respond. They laid there for awhile in silence. Ernst hugged him close, affectionate as always, and Hanschen returned it. He purred like they were kids again.  

Hanschen, now without any teacher there to stop him, pet Ernst's hair and nuzzled into the crook of his neck. 

"There's coffee cake in the fridge." 

"Mm," Hanschen groaned. "Coffee cake sounds amazing right now, but it means you have to get up." 

Ernst wiggled out of his arms. "You can come with me." 

"Too far," he whined, even as he sat up straight. After a long day of worrying and preparing and subsequently partying, he was worn down. 

"We can move to my bed if you get up. It's much more comfortable," Ernst said, and that was good reason enough for Hanschen to follow him into the kitchen, drowsily eat two slices of coffee cake (with much mockery from Ernst when the fork missed his mouth completely several times) and follow him up the stairs. Despite their close friendship as children, he'd never seen Ernst's room.  

Ernst opened the door for him, and although he certainly wanted to snoop around, his first priority was flopping on the frankly _huge_ bed in the corner of the room. He looked around to see a few sketchbooks on the floor. No posters or anything of the sort on his walls, but there were a few paintings, recognizable enough for Hanschen to know that they weren't painted by Ernst himself. One might have been Monet. He couldn't quite remember. 

The room had an average amount of furniture- a dresser, bedside table, work desk- but there wasn't much decoration. Ernst had always struck him as someone who would love decorating. He supposed he'd been wrong. 

"Scoot over," the boy said, and he did so, letting Ernst lift up the comforter and get both of them under it. The bed was big enough that he could move away if need be, but Hanschen wanted to cuddle more than anything. Ernst definitely approved of this, and rubbed his face against Hanschen's chest to show it. 

"God, I wish I could live here," Hanschen slurred as his nose was mashed unattractively against the pillow. It was cozier than his bed had ever been. 

"We'll see," Ernst teased, switching off the lamp behind him. "I'm taking out my hearing aids now, so if you need to say something, say it before it falls on deaf ears." 

"Very funny. Hilarious, really," Hanschen deadpanned. "But two things first- one, remember to open the thing so they turn off- and secondly, I love you too. I'm going to sleep now, because these hours are bullshit." 

He could feel Ernst's surprised smile against his collarbone, and reveled in it for the short moment he stayed conscious. He could worry about everything later. 

**Author's Note:**

> for your weird german trivia needs
> 
> abiball - basically prom  
> gras - "weed"  
> gymnasium - secondary school  
> abitur - final exams  
> what's with all the turkish stuff - germany has a high rate of turkish migrants so turkish stuff is popular there  
> halbstarke - a post-ww2 greaser dude  
> mauschen - term of endearment "little mouse"  
> the bielefeld joke - a bunch of fucking assholes decided it would be funny if they convinced a bunch of tourists that this one city didn't exist. bielefeld isn't real. bielefeld is like germany's area 51. all mysterious and shit.
> 
> ok? i think that's all. feel free to ask question i'm ready 2 talk about this verse any day any time
> 
> hmu @transaaronburr on tumblr and please let me know if you enjoyed!


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